


one little favour

by eomerking



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drinking, F/M, Some Swearing, metions of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-16 20:35:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3501938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eomerking/pseuds/eomerking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Some drunk dick keeps trying to chat me up, so I’ll give you twenty quid right now if you kiss me."</p><p>Favours for strangers in a crowded bar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	one little favour

**Author's Note:**

> Or the one where Bellamy gets it on with a stranger after he saved her from a bar creep.
> 
> (it's half one in the morning and i have no idea what i'm doing. i saw another au and was like 'hey, that's a great idea'. idk either)

Bellamy enjoys being in the bar. He likes being able to drink, day or night, and not be looked at weirdly for it. He likes that his sister won’t follow him in here – too dirty, or some bullshit. Bellamy _knows_ how often they clean in this place – and none of their friends will either. It’s quiet where he sits, and only the bar staff ever talk to him. In the bar, Bellamy is utterly, completely, and _blissfully_ alone.

There are other places he tends to go on Friday nights. He’s not fond of the crowds of rowdy idiots, or how long it takes for his drink to get to him. Fox shrugs and gestures at the room, which is full to bustling. At the bar Wick has even toned down his showmanship, and is serving people as they come, and as quickly as he can.

Bellamy raises his own shoulders in response, and orders a pitcher of beer to go with the dregs of the pint he’s already nursing. Fox snorts and walks away. They’ve long since stopped treating him like a customer. Bellamy sometimes feels as if he’s part of the furniture.

Out of principle, he doesn’t tend to look out at the sea of faces. They all belong to people he doesn’t want to meet and couldn’t give a fuck about. The only reason he sits facing the floor is so he can make sure that no one ever approaches him. So it’s only by chance that when he looks over to the bar to see if Wick’s done with his drink that he spots the tiny blonde sat at the bar. Her shoulders are slumped and when she turns to snap at the person next to her, Bellamy can see a fierce scowl on her face.

Bellamy’s smirk is a natural reaction to watching someone get chewed out. His gaze drifts from the woman and onto Wick, who is passing Fox Bellamy’s pitcher. Wick salutes mockingly, and Bellamy reply is of the two-fingered kind. Fox starts on her way over, and Bellamy can see out of the corner of his eye that the little blonde is following Fox with her eyes.

They snap to him, all of a sudden, two bright blue eyes crowned by furrowed blonde brows.

Bellamy shuffles himself further in to his booth, further away from women who like to make direct eye contact with strangers. Fox doesn’t bother with niceties when she places the pitcher on his table, and she gives a heavily paraphrased version of ‘Your drink has been added to your tab, sir. Is there anything else I can get for you?’ and she shoulders her way back through the crowd to the bar.

Bellamy drains the last of his pint, and pours himself another. He hears footfalls next to him.

“I don’t need anything else, Fox.”

“Some drunk dick keeps trying to chat me up, so I’ll give you twenty quid right now if you kiss me.”

Bellamy turns his head, and suddenly the eye-contact blonde from the bar is sat next to him. Her scowl is still in place, but she’s sat so close to him Bellamy can feel the heat of her through her clothes.

“What.”

The blonde makes a hissing noise and jerks her head to the bar. Bellamy follows the gesture, thoroughly confused. Sure enough, a man at the bar who could quite possibly have Drunk Dick trademarked is staring at the blonde. His collar is popped, his hair is gelled upwards, and he’s wearing so many layers of fake tan he almost glows. Bellamy feels his eyebrow quirk and he turns his head back to the blonde.

“ _Seriously_.” She says, stressing the word.

“Can’t deal with the attention, princess?”

The blonde’s scowl is turned on Bellamy, and he can all but feel it burning his skin. Her hand is on his forearm, blunt nails digging into his bare skin. Bellamy can feel the smirk growing on his lips.

“Fuck you,” She says in same breath that she kisses him. For a second Bellamy is too taken away to do anything. But never let it be said that Bellamy Blake doesn’t give as good as he gets. He bites her lip roughly, and her nails scratch his arm. Her other hand somehow ends up on his chest, ruining the material of his t-shirt. God only knows why one of his hands found the back of her neck. Or why it felt the need to curl the blonde’s hair into its fist.

She pulls away, her eyes bright. The makeup surrounding them is dark and sharp, and it makes Bellamy think of night time and sex. She grins at him, and its all wicked edges. Her lips were dark red before they kissed, and Bellamy is sure that the same colour is now smudged across him too.

“Does this make me a prostitute?” Bellamy asks. His voice is deeper than it was before, and far more breathless. Their faces are barely inches apart.

“I haven’t paid you yet,” She replies slowly, “I don’t know if you’re _worth it_.”

The blonde tilts her head so when she looks at Bellamy her eyes are almost closed, only the faintest slits of blue showing. Bellamy’s smirk grows into something close to a grin. His hand is still in her hair, but he ignores the feel of it against his palm as he turning away from her to look at the bar. Drunk Dick has moved on, his attentions now on some other unfortunate girl.

“Well, _princess_ ,” he drawls, watching the fire burn in her eyes, “Your suitors gone. I’d say I was worth it.”

“I’m still not convinced,” The blonde says lightly. She has a small dimple in her chin, one that disappears whenever her lips curl.

“And how does one _convince_ royalty?”

The blond leans in even closer, so their lips almost brush.

“We’ll have to see, won’t we?”

* * *

 

When he wakes up the next morning the blonde is stood in front of his kitchen in one of aprons. And nothing else. Her hair cascades down her back and her bare arse is on show.

It’s a good look on her.

“Have you been convinced then, princess?” Bellamy asks as he climbs out of bed and crosses the studio. The blonde turns at the sound of his voice. Her neck bears heavy evidence of the night before, and Bellamy can’t help the smugness he feels.

She crosses her arms under her breast and cocks one hip to the side. Her makeup is gone, but she still makes Bellamy think of sex. She smiles, relaxed and unhurried.

“I’m sure there’s still a lot more you can do.”

* * *

 

Six months later and Bellamy hasn’t been back to the bar once. Octavia calls it a miracle.

Bellamy says it’s Clarke.

(That’s the blonde's name. She still likes standing in his kitchen naked)

**Author's Note:**

> if you wanna send me a promt or anything my tumblr is catchmeifyouwantto@tumblr.com
> 
> comments are always welcome, even if its just to tell me to stop


End file.
